


yellow !

by sapphskies



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Heavy Angst, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Synesthesia, chan and lix are confused, most of this is fluffy i swear, sad ending :((, seemingly paranormal things towards the end, so am I, sorry xx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphskies/pseuds/sapphskies
Summary: chan and felix explore the ways of loving and the areas of adorationorlove can hurt sometimes
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. september

**Author's Note:**

> hello !! i reccomend reading this while listening to coldplay (preferrably yellow) as this whole thing started out of infatuation for those kings  
> (no coldplay slander here)  
> also: for any theory of knowledge/philosophy nerds, did u catch my rephrasal of the ways of knowing and the areas of knowledge in the summary ?

The hoar frost that had encased the old, creaky swing sets and their weak chains somehow wasn’t enough to convince Felix not to sit on one of the lone pairs anyways. There was little that could be done to quench one’s thirst for nostalgia, and the places that attach to it so obstinately, and Felix never bothered trying to fight the urge back anyways.

Nostalgia was a good thing, he believed. It was a beautiful thing to attach value towards something for what it used to be. No, Felix wouldn’t make much use out of an old swing that could snap at any second – especially now, in its presence amidst the sting of frigid air –, and yes, this playground had practically become abandoned.

The frost at his feet feels colder now. Perhaps because his body had somehow managed to warm up whatever cold still clung onto the swings he’d practically forced himself to sit on.

However, that didn’t make him any less resilient to at least make an attempt at planting himself at the very spot through which his memories ran by him like a photo reel stored in an old, rusty camera. You’ll only allow yourself the chance at peeking when you most need it, and Felix attributes the disappearance of a familiar, warm figure as colder than the air around him. So, of course, he needed the opportunity to indulge in this nostalgia.

For it’s the only thing keeping him together right now from when Chan had urged him to leave that morning without him and managed to shatter his heart into a thousand, minute pieces that he’s attempting to find and re-assemble before any more panic can ensue. Nothing but a short farewell; that was all Chan had left him with. There wasn’t a kiss goodbye, nor was there a long hug for warm send-off, nor a smile that he could dream about in the car ride back to his childhood home.

Hyunjin, who lived nearby and offered to drop Felix off in place of Chan, had joked on the car ride there that Felix was quite mopey for someone who was only going to be away from their substantial other for a week.

He didn’t tell him why, but the comment made him frown. Although he realises he would be dramatically morose if that were, in fact, the case, he can’t shake off the feeling that he’d left at a bad time. Chan had spent a considerable amount of time conveying that he just had too much work and couldn’t spend time away from said work, even if it was the holiday season.

It’s **December**. It’s a season of celebration, of joy, of reminisce.

Felix repeats the particular phrase a lot throughout that day. So much so, that it starts to feel like a mantra that manages to uphold the small amount of dignity he still maintains, even while he’s watching his relationship grip onto its last red string.

It’s only now that he’s managed to remind himself that, yes, things have most definitely been weary with Chan, but why? What could have possibly happened to build such a strong wall between them in such a short amount of time, when otherwise, things seemed to be going as great as he expects them to, what with his very clear infatuation and devotion to the boy.

An imaginary clock in his mind rewinds back to **September**.

Perhaps it had started then?

The first memory that strikes at him paints an image of Chan grinning down at him from where he’s running a moist towel over a scrape on his cheek, careful not to prod at his red nose. The image is clearer now, and the first thing Felix hears is Chan’s gleeful laughter.

‘Stop smiling, I know it hurts because you can’t hide your winces.’ Chan lectures, raising an eyebrow when Felix laughs anyways.

‘I can’t help it, it’s hard not to smile when my boyfriend takes care of me so well.’ Felix recites, as if he’s reading lines from a playscript.

‘God,’ Chan winces himself, now, looking more closely at the damage that had been inflicted onto Felix’s soft, baby skin ‘I left you for 5 minutes, how did this happen.’

‘I told you,’ Felix rolls his eyes, but barely manages to hold back a smile nonetheless ‘it really wasn’t my intention to, but I guess I came off as creepy to some girl with a mean right hook.’

‘What did you even say to provoke such a good punch to the face?’

‘Um,’ Felix pretends to recall, as if he hasn’t already ingrained it into his head ‘I told her she tasted like strawberries.’

‘Lix!’

‘What? It’s habitual!’ Felix defends, reaching up to lightly pat at Chan’s arm, as it had frozen in place.

‘It’s fine around people who know, but out of context that sounds super creepy.’ Chan smiles, shaking his head at the odd boy he’s somehow fallen for.

‘I know, but – and this is justifiable because I say so –, I haven’t been able to taste anyone for a while – stop laughing! – and from experience, people that taste like strawberries are usually super nice, so the most I expected was a questioning look, to which I would’ve been given the chance to explain myself.’

Chan shakes his head, once again, reaching over to drag a Hello Kitty plaster over the small cut and watching as its crimson red disappears under white felt, wincing out of extinct, yet again; Felix likes to think he’d doing it for him, since he’s become so accustomed to landing himself odd scratches and bruises through the simple act of clumsy existence.

‘Next time, maybe explain the whole synaesthesia thing first? Try: Hey, my name is Felix, and I have a neurological condition that acts as a sixth sense, by the way, did you know you tasted like strawberries?’

‘Hm, I don’t know, introducing yourself is so 18th century, I like to cut to the chase.’ Felix smiles, whining when Chan tries to move away, gripping onto one of his legs for leverage.

‘It went perfectly fine when we first met.’

**¹º»**

**Ages:** 11 and 13

**Status:** Strangers

‘So, what are you in for?’

Felix looks back at the boy behind him. Precisely the very one he had briefly noted the existence of upon entering the small classroom with a small nod, and nothing else, because he had been planning on customarily ignoring him for the rest of the time he was stuck there.

‘Why would you phrase it like that? You’re making it sound like we’re in prison.’ Felix pointedly replies, turning back away from the boy, hearing him edge his table so that it almost touched his chair.

‘Hm, I was hoping you would bring up the fact that in prison, you’re not supposed to tell people about your crimes.’ Felix looks back at the boy again, startling himself in the process when he realises the boy had leaned over his table so that his face was right over his shoulder.

‘Move away, you smell like a bag of farts.’

Even though he can tell it’s a meaningless insult, the boy still peers down to sniff at his shirt ‘No, I don’t, I smell like oranges because that’s what I had for lunch.’

Felix looks back at the boy, running his eyes over his small figure, hunched over the wooden table, and then back to his bashful eyes. He didn’t taste like oranges, though.

But, and as only becomes more prominent the more he looks at him, Chan’s colour was yellow.

A bright, unmistakable ring of yellow, that was what Felix saw. It stuck out like a sore thumb, so there wasn’t much he could do before he willed himself to ask, ‘How come your yellow is so bright?’

‘Huh?’

‘Your yellow,’ Felix points around him ‘it’s brighter than any other colour I’ve seen on anyone before.’

‘What?’ The boy only continues to deepen his expression of puzzlement ‘What yellow?’

‘Around you,’ Felix looks back at the boy with the same level of confusion ‘you don’t see it? Everyone has one.’

‘No, I’m pretty sure I don’t. If everyone has a colour, what’s yours?’

Felix grins for the first time during the duration of their conversation. ‘Red.’


	2. october

So, it wasn’t September.

Could it have been **October**? But, alas, the first memory that runs by Felix is, yet again, a very lovely one.

A picture slowly builds itself around him, and suddenly, he feels himself awakening to the smell of cheap alcohol, dollar store perfume, and men – the undeniable, irreparable stench of men penetrated through the air more than he’d like to admit.

His eyes are still screwed shut but his shifting alerts Chan, whose shoulder his head is laid so snuggly against, one of his arms wound around the boy’s arm, their hands clasped somewhere in the middle.

‘Guys, quiet down, you’ll wake him up.’ Chan motions over to the boy leaning against him. Because it’s Felix, they do actually make an attempt at doing so, but nothing ever stops Jisung from blurting out unwanted commentary.

‘Look at you two. All lovey-dovey…in a healthy, loving relationship and shit. Could never be me.’

‘Don’t mind him, he just gets extra salty when he’s drunk,’ Seungmin utters, slapping Jisung’s hand away when he groans and attempts to hit his chest ‘one of you singles have to sacrifice yourselves to him. I’m sorry but I can’t stand another second of him whining about it.’

‘Why don’t you do it?’ Hyunjin quips from the front of the van since it’s his turn to drive.

‘What?’

‘Don’t act clueless, you two pretend to hate each other but you’ll probably realise you’re in love one way or another.’ It’s Jeongin that chips in now, blowing a kiss at Seungmin when he sends a seething glare his direction.

Felix’s eyes squint open the slightest bit out of curiosity, and he’s immediately met with the faint site of Seungmin pushing Jisung away while the latter attempts to plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s then that he decides to finally pick his head up and feel his eyes blink open, adjusting to the small bit of light that hits at them.

Since they’d been in the van for quite some time – no one was keeping track, but they’d made many stops, shared too many drinks, and possibly set themselves up for a very terrible migraine, regret, and a promise to never drink again for the morning to come – Felix’s limbs were starting to sore, and he feels himself groan into Chan’s neck, who simply pats at his head in comfort.

‘Morning, little one,’ Chan plants a short kiss at the top of his head, ignoring when Jisung yells that that’s unhygienic ‘sleep well?’

‘Mhm,’ _That’s obviously a lie_ ‘but only because you were right next to me.’ Flattery: that was usually Chan’s job.

‘You know, I always found it quite amusing how you look so tiny and cute when you wake up, but your voice sounds even deeper than usual.’ The paradoxical sight of a fluffy-haired, half asleep, puffy cheeked Felix whose voice competed against that of a corpse momentarily risen from the ground, certainly did not go unnoticed by anyone. And although he wishes he were used to it, Chan can’t seem to eliminate the initial shock from being hit with so many things all at once.

‘I always found it quite amusing how I could never taste you until that night–,’

‘Whatever it is that you’re about to say, please remember that we can all hear you.’

Maybe it’s for the best that Seungmin cut him off.

**¹º»**

**Age:** 17 and 19

**Status:** Close friends

As years passed and Felix attributed more time to learning about his strange condition and how it willed him to perceive the world so differently than those around him. Eventually, it became a sort of norm for him to consult people online for tips on dealing with it, seeing as his parents generally dismissed it.

Eventually, as was customary, Felix’s interest in his unique perceptions only seemed to further widen his horizons in obtaining a philosophical overview of how his senses coalesced and overlapped.

Yellow fit Chan. It fit him so much, that Felix is adamant that even without his condition, he’d still associate the colour with him. For yellow was so many things that somehow seemed like they were built to surround themselves around this one person.

Chan is Felix’s yellow; he’s the large, fiery star in the sky that shines down on their world and its tenants, the bite of a lemon that stings at first but excites at the same time, the leverage of daffodil bunches clasped between two hands on a trek down a gusty path, a symbol for hope, happiness, enlightenment, and creativity.

In turn, Felix was his red; he’s the tumultuous speed at which one tumbles through a ride of recollection, the bite of a ripe strawberry that launches you into oblivion and surprises you with all of its concise flavours and unique tastes, a symbol for brashness, love, heat, and longing.

Red didn’t mean as much to Chan until he met Felix, and yellow didn’t mean much to Felix (other than the fact that he associated it with the number 7 and the letter A) until he met Chan.

‘I look stupid, don’t I?’

But, he doesn’t.

Felix’s pretty, pillowy lips are cloaked in red today. A deep, crimson red, that is only further enhanced by the stretch of his lips into wide, contagious smiles. Red always looked pretty on Felix. Chan guesses it’s just because he’s associated him with the colour so ardently that he can’t seem to disentangle the two.

‘You look fine, Lix.’ The boy sends him a small smile, watching as he continues to look back at his figure in the mirror with worriment.

He’d been up for a big role in that year’s big school production, and if he wanted to look good in his applications and finally pursue his dreams of becoming an Official Theatre Kid, he had to ensure that he performed well next week. And the day after that day. And the after that week when they’d perform in front of another school because they wanted to milk the production as much as they could.

The idea of declining the makeup that they’d eventually plastered onto his face earlier that day was definitely out of question, for it was ‘important that the character wears red lipstick for the entirety of the play, even if it’s just for practice’.

The aftermath of which was re-apply after re-apply whenever he got the chance while he was backstage. By the end of the day, it certainly hadn’t been a very easy to task to scrub off. Good thing Chan was there to help.

‘Ow, Chan, calm down.’ Felix pouts again, shuddering when Chan swipes the tissue in his hand over the boy’s lip again, with so much force it feels like he might rip the skin off – it’ll still be red, in the end.

‘I am calm.’

Chan is not calm. Because, he had to watch from the side lines while Felix repeated his big kissing scene not once, not twice, not even thrice, but 8 consecutive times because ‘there simply wasn’t any passion’. Chan wanted to strangle that drama teacher.

And yes, yellow also showed jealousy, but Chan wasn’t jealous. He was simply and sordidly remorseful for his friend, who’d just endured the same kissing scene 8 times in a row when the only relationship he’d ever had lasted a week because she ‘changed her mind’.

Maybe if he tells himself that enough times, it’ll actually come into fruition. Because, oh, how deeply did this feeling in his chest weigh.


	3. november

It couldn’t have been October. So, was it **November**? Was that when everything changed?

November started off amazingly, actually, as it had been a day after the Halloween bash held by the university’s council, of which Seungmin was a part of. And because Seungmin wanted to ensure that his hard work did not go to waste, he stuck by Jisung to ‘ensure he didn’t do anything too stupid’ . To Felix, that just sounded like an excuse for him to stick by the boy for that day, but it certainly seemed like Jisung didn’t mind, anyway.

Despite said efforts, because of the large turnout, and the fact that hundreds of students had been cramped into one huge party, one couldn’t have expected for the clean-up afterwards to be anything of a simple one. And because Chan was ‘good-hearted’ he’d been one of those volunteers to offer to clean up. And because Felix didn’t want to be left alone for the day, he’d subsequently volunteered as well.

‘I’m just saying, who the fuck brings their toothbrush to a party?’ Felix grimaces in disgust, throwing the (slimy?) item into his trash bag ‘And why is it in a random corner of all things?’

‘I don’t know, Felix,’ Chan distractedly murmurs, looking around him for the wrapper he’d sworn he saw on the ground a second ago ‘maybe someone who really cares about keeping their teeth clean.’

‘I doubt it,’ Felix shudders again, remembering the slobber that still sat on the tip of the brush, all 12 hours later ‘could’ve been part of a costume, I guess. Maybe someone dressed as a dentist.’

‘Why would a dentist carry around a toothbrush?’

‘I don’t know, so they could remind people to brush their teeth?!’ Felix states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Alright, alright,’ Chan calms the boy down, locking eyes with a door not too far from them ‘I think all that’s left over here is that closet, right?’

Felix turns around to see what Chan’s motioning to, but ends up looking back at the boy with wrinkled eyebrows ‘The janitor’s closet? Why?’

‘You know someone was bound to sneak in there,’ Chan lifts his eyebrows and tilts his head down, hoping that the boy will get whatever silent message he’s attempting to translate ‘if you catch my drift.’

‘What?’ Felix only blinks repeatedly in response.

‘Felix. Think about where we had our first kiss.’

_Oh._

**¹º»**

**Age:** 19 and 21

**Status:** ? It’s complicated

Felix’s smallest bit of hope now is the fact that his eyes fall over Chan’s figure in the distance in the midst of his short-lived sprint. Although he has no idea what’s going on, Felix’s frantic eyes and unique ability to send messages through telepathic pathways, was enough to tell Chan what he needed to.

Before either knew it, Chan was pulling a frenzied Felix behind the nearest door, and quietly shutting it behind him. It’s only when he looks back at Felix that he realises how odd their surroundings were. For some reason, he’d completely dismissed the sign propped up on the outside and assumed it was a random, empty class room.

‘Are we in a closet?’ Felix questions, even though the answer is obvious ‘I worked so hard on coming out of here, why am I back?’

‘Ha-ha, hilarious,’ Chan still airily chuckles, leaning over the door and shushing Felix after he hears some commotion behind it.

Then, he turns back to the confuddled boy and whispers ‘What the hell did you do?’

Felix simply whispers back ‘Nothing. I just…,’

‘So, it is something?’

‘I may have accidentally mistaken one of Minho’s cats for the other.’ Felix slowly recalls, watching as Chan knowingly grimaces. Minho had insisted, on more than one occasion, that he’d begin quizzing his friends on his cats until they all had the essential information integrated into their heads. Chan wouldn’t be too surprised if he actually started doing it.

‘After the 2 cats thing? He’s going to kill you.’

‘Yeah, that doesn’t really help, Chris.’ Chan freezes upon hearing the name roll past Felix’s lips so naturally. Although having met on memorable circumstances, the only thing that had really managed to maintain the strong relationship and its pent up walls was the knowledge that they’d both grown up in Australia before moving – Chan, until he was 9, and Felix, until he was 10.

It had given the young pair an excuse to ramble on about anything and everything they’d missed about home, their tiny feet swinging over the ground, atop creaky swings. The nights they’d spent sleeping over at either one’s house, the times Felix had hidden out in his own closet while Chan consoled him, the distant yells of parents that didn’t love each other anymore ringing and reverberating within his mind, even after it stopped.

The last time Felix had used that name was when they were about that young. It was a minute detail, an attempt at moving away from the past, when Felix could only ever call him by the name. It was an attempt at never reminiscing.

‘O-oh, I didn’t even realise,’ Felix eventually mutters upon remembering his words ‘it has been a while, hasn’t it?’

‘Hm,’ Chan nods distractedly, his eyes favouring the idea of looking back at the boy before him, as closely as he can. Evaluating every single thing he can, from the delicate small hands he remembers clasping between his fingers subconsciously, whenever he worked on an assignment and needed something to hold. To the flitter of eyelashes against star-speckled skin, the very same that he’d attributed hours to attempting to make a count out of as kids, making announcements that ‘the number had grown’ instead of admitting that he probably miscounted.

’52.’

‘Sorry?’ Felix has somehow drowned in the silence seemingly instigated by Chan’s quiet contemplation. He’d barely even noticed when Chan’s fingers trailed over his own, at the brink of entwining, purely riding off of the exchange of warmth through fingertips.

‘I used to say you had 52 freckles. That was the final consensus.’ Chan’s tone is as soft and gentle as his glower, but Felix doesn’t think he’s ever felt so intimidated by the boy.

‘Oh, right. You were totally bullshitting; I could tell you lost count.’

‘You knew?’ Chan exclaims now, giggling with the boy as they recalled the many times Chan had conducted his Weekly Freckle Counting religiously. Eventually, they’d fallen out of the habit, but it never stopped Chan from attempting to do so to himself from time to time, solely to be given an excuse to examine his face without outwardly admitting so to himself.

‘Yeah, it was obvious.’ Felix looks down now, feeling Chan finally interlace his own fingers through Felix’s. When he looks back up at Chan, he almost bounces in surprise, the ring of yellow surrounding him almost sun-bright, and the room’s own yellow hue entrapping itself within the very same alluring eyes he’d become accustomed to mentally swimming in.

It’s only natural that his own eyes fall over Chan’s lips. It’s happened on more than one occasion, to the point where Felix hopes that he can still manage to convince himself that it’s simple admiration and nothing else.

Unlike Felix, though, Chan doesn’t seem to like the idea of holding back this time. In the flicker of a streetlight, Chan pulls Felix to him and feverishly melds his lips against Felix’s, briefly giggling when their noses messily coalesce.

But it’s alright because he knows they’ll get there. Maybe it just took some time for Red to meet Yellow.


	4. Chapter 4

Felix only feels his head growing heavier and more weighted with the passage of time. Reminiscing was supposed to be good; it was supposed to help. That was what Chan always told him; remember the good and the bad, for they’ve shaped you as a person. But why couldn’t he will himself to remember the bad? Why did he have to busy himself with the good, as if he’d already given up on the boy he was helplessly in love with. As if he’d already slipped past his grip.

The traffic within his head is enough to disrupt any and all peace he might’ve maintained in the cold silence that surrounded him with its thick cloud. He ran past mental tracks, roads, and bridges, but nowhere within the vast landscape could he find a reason.

One perturbed puff of air and a kick against the snow later, Felix hears nothing but the creaky grunt of his swing against a wintry draft. What is he doing?

He takes a moment to re-evaluate his surroundings. His mind flashes past one final memory. The sight of his feet against snow is replaced by the sight of his smaller feet swinging against a summery air, the time when he had to heave himself up with Chan’s help to get atop the swings, as they sat a foot too high for him.

Felix remembers. And maybe that’s all he needed to do to realise that he needed to see Chan. He needed to see Chan, now, nothing else mattered.

Amongst many other bad life decisions, Felix had heaved himself past the snow and back to his childhood home. In the spur of the moment, high off of adrenaline, Felix drafted a quick note for his mother, making sure to leave an apology before practically hijacking her car and testing his sloppy driving skills to get to Chan as quickly as possible.

It’s definitely not one of his best moments, and he knows that despite the draft they’d been experiencing recently, Chan would still be his annoyingly worrisome self, and scold him for driving with a permit – which was a miracle that he’d gotten one in the first place.

Driving on an empty road was hard enough for Felix, so he should’ve anticipated the obstacles that would present themselves through a sloppy drive in the middle of a windy storm, post snowfall.

At that point, if his field of vision hadn’t already been blocked by tears that threatened to fall but barely could, it certainly was by the white winds that screeched past him and pummelled past his mom’s car in such swift motions that he was sure it would topple over.

Felix knew he was being foolish, ludicrous, ridiculous, and any other word under a thesaurus that alluded to the stupidity of his thought process. He was well aware. But how could he think through the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, to the point to where it was starting to ache with each compression, the bite of frost that still nipped at his skin, the unshed tears that persistently made an effort to blur his vision without the desire of falling over his cold, inflamed cheeks.

Even as he makes it past a longer distance than he’d expected, looking back at the GPS that conveniently displayed his desired route, his mind lingers on Chan. All of the memories he’d been repressing for so long in fear of the pain that was currently inhabiting him at the very second. The very pain that hit the hardest in the heart of a person in love. The pain that coursed through his veins and met at the central domain through which Felix protectively held his feelings to his chest.

It’s never hurt so much.

Somehow, it only seems to intensify as time passes. Why was there so much yellow around him? Had they just started to stand out more?

From the yellow hue of streetlights overhead with the darkening sky, the yellow of a sign harbouring a speed limit he was definitely going over, the yellow of a fire hydrant he speedily passes by, the yellow of certain crops that still peeked out of the snow on either side of the road. But nothing was stronger than the yellow his eye seemed to catch from the distance. It was much further away, but his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

Startling him amidst his short entrancement, the GPS cuts off the deafening silence again. This time, what the automated voice says draws his interest:

**‘Rerouting…turn left. Now.’**

_What?_

**‘Turn left…rerouting…continue on straight ahead, and then turn right in 250 feet.’**

Felix dubiously peered at the strange device, having missed when it glitched the first time, but certainly not the second time around. Somehow, he manages to shake it off, despite the eery feeling that settles into his chest.

That is, until-

**‘You will rë̶͇́ȃ̶̼ç̴͋h̶̍͜ ̶̢̕y̸̬̐ơ̶̥u̶̗̽r̴͈̅ ̶̢̾d̶̺̒ê̷̯s̸̺͒t̴̰̕i̵̭̅ǹ̵̨ạ̸̎ț̴̑i̵̺̕o̴̜͒ṇ̴̍ ̶͕͆i̶͚͌n̴̊͜ ̷̜́5̷͓̄0̷͎̿.̵̺̈́.̵̓ͅ.̴̳͝1̶̖̍0̷̧̏0̸̹̐ ̴̺̿f̶̦́e̶̼̍ë̶͔́ẗ̸͖́’**

That had definitely caught Felix’s attention. In a desperate attempt at clinging onto hope that he was going to be fine and that his mother’s GPS had probably just been worked to the bone – odd phrasing for an automated device, but the intent is clear.

Upon making an attempt at closing it, however, the system simply reboots again.

_What the hell?_

**‘You will reach your destination– t̶͉͛u̵̡͑r̷͕͗n̶̲̅ ̸̘̑l̴̗̒e̵̛͜f̸̹̑t̶͚̂’**

Felix looks to his left. It’s woodland. If he were to drive off course, he’d obviously crash. Why was this GPS trying to get him to crash?

**‘ẏ̴͓o̷̪̓ǘ̶̦r̷͎̚ ̵̰͐d̴͓̔e̵ͅs̸̱̐t̶̲̃i̸̪͛n̵̦̈́ą̴͊t̷̮̍ȋ̵̻o̷̙ǹ̶̯ ̴̩͗i̴̡̊s̷̠͂ ̸̬b̸̘̓ḛ̶̎h̴̰͝ỉ̵̤n̶͔͗d̷̳͂ ̵͓̊y̶̙͛o̶̞̎ȗ̵̟’**

Felix yelps, a bright light emits from his peripheral view, a blend of yellow and white emanating from the distance, only growing stronger as the car continues to veer from side to side with his growing anxiety.

For a blinding moment, he swears he sees Chan. Of course, in a time of relentless distress, he’s not shocked to find the boy entering his field of vision. But, fleetingly, he wills himself to believe he’s really there.

_Chan? Was that really him?_

He sees his figure clearly, although a few feet too far. He’s in his familiar car. The same car Felix has attached countless memories to. He sees his face, shock and worry daubed over his soft features. The ring of yellow glows brighter than ever.

It expands so far that it surrounds the entirety of his vision. It clouds every other sense; he can no longer smell, hear, taste, feel, or see anything else.

Chan…

The last thing Felix hears is the sound of his car screeching off course, crashing into the rubble of branches and leaves and snow.

The last thing he sees is yellow.

And when Chan leaps himself forward, shaking with agony, crying into the open air, his very soul lurched out of his body with Felix’s, the lifeless body of which he clutches tightly to his chest in futile attempt at reviving a corpse, he sees red.

The red that pools into the material of his pants, his shirt, that splatters over his palms. The red that seeps out of the boy in front of him and cascades over him in one final remembrance of his name.

Chan was yellow. Felix was red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are we doing, babies ? :(  
> if you get sad thinking of red and yellow, think of the mcdonald's logo lol   
> thank you for reading !! english isn't my first language, so any and all valid criticism is appreciated :D


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